Broken Promise
by acacia59601
Summary: Life never seems so precious except when you are about to lose it and still have someone to live for. "Forgive me, my son!" Caspian silently begged.


Okay, after 10 viewings of Prince Caspian I've finally buckled under and am giving in to my PC one-shot plot bunnies... I'd say I really need a life, but if I had one, I wouldn't have time to write fanfiction. Many thanks to elecktrum for betaing!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.

I'll Protect You

King Caspian softly swayed back and forth trying to comfort the screaming newborn in his arms. His son seemed to be such a small scrap of life even though the midwife had told him that the baby was goodly sized. _Goodly sized,_ he thought to himself, _and my lady wife so small..._

_He had broken down in tears at her bedside when they had finally let him into the room where she had labored for a day and a night to give him an heir. She hadn't seemed peaceful or as though she was sleeping. Her dark, curly hair had been tangled and sweat-stiffened, and her face a bloodless gray. He had clutched her cold and lifeless hand, silently praying for her to squeeze it back, to give him some sign that she wasn't truly dead. The silent women had taken themselves to the adjoining room to give him a chance to say goodbye in privacy and part of him was grateful. He knew that his younger brother already thought of him as weak and womanish and he had no wish to give the gossip-mongers of his court any further ammunition to use against him. Another pain-filled part of him wanted to scream his anguish and loss to the sky and stars, railing against the fate that had taken her from him. _

_He had managed to run out of tears by the time the old midwife had come to his side and asked, "Majesty, would you care to see your son?"_

"_No," was his deadened reply. Not even his longed-for son could ever have made the loss of Tenara worth it. The old woman silently left him and he let himself drown in his pain. _

_She had come back an hour later and again asked, "Caspian, you need to see your son."_

_He had wheeled on her in fury. "I have no interest in seeing the creature that took her from me!"_

_He staggered back into the bed-frame, his face stinging where she had hit him. "How dare you strike your king," he growled. A man he would have killed for the insult, but he could not raise his hand to the furious midwife. Delitena had delivered him, had been his wet-nurse and his governess. She had been more of a mother to him than his own flesh and blood. _

"_How dare __**I**__? How dare __**you**__!" she raged, tears filling her rheumy eyes. "If you abandon your child you spit on everything that sweet girl suffered and died for! Your lady's death was a tragedy that any of us would have given our lives to prevent, but that was not a choice offered to us. Anymore than your son was given a choice in being born."_

_Caspian felt shame spread through him. He had spoken in rash anger and pain. He knew better than Delitena that his wife would have done far more than hit him if she had heard him. _

_The midwife saw the acceptance in the young king's eyes and her face softened. "The babe's in the next room. The wet-nurse just fed him, so if he fusses he likely wants to be held."_

_Caspian nodded and he pressed a kiss to his dead wife's brow before turning to leave. He had nearly gotten to the door when Delitena asked, "What are you going to name him? Tenara had said that you had planning on naming him after you, if it had been a boy."_

_Caspian nodded. "She wanted to name him Caspian the Tenth." And he walked through the door to meet his son. _

The baby slowly stopped his wailing as he was held closer in his father's arms. The king knew that many in his court thought him mad for wanting to spend so much time with his son. The only one who really seemed to understand was his friend Alward Cornelius. The older man knew that little Caspian the Tenth was the sole thing holding the king together. The loss of his wife a week before had almost broken him, but each moment spent with the baby was like a paste sealing the cracks in his heart. He obviously couldn't feed the baby, but the wet-nurse stayed down the hall and was only called when it was time for feedings or when Caspian was required for official kingdom business. His younger brother, Miraz, had offered to help with what he could and Caspian had willingly accepted. He knew that Miraz was overly ambitious, but maybe this taste of real bureaucracy might dampen his brother's unseemly enthusiasm.

He held the softly hiccuping baby closer and settled down in the chair by his fire. The baby nestled close to his father's chest and seemed content to simply lie there, listening to the king's strong, steady heartbeat.

"We had such plans for you, you know," Caspian told the baby. "Your mother and I... You will grow up strong and tall, looking much like me from what I can tell, though you do have your mother's ears and mouth." He slipped his smallest finger into the babe's hand and grinned at the fierce grip. "You've the makings of a fine swordsman already!

"You will be a mighty king some day," he said. "A far better king than I will ever be... And I will be there helping you grow. I'm going to get you a pony when you're older and I'll teach you to ride."

Little Caspian seemed unimpressed by this as he yawned and snuggled closer. The king's heart turned over. The baby was so small and so utterly helpless against the snake pit that was the Telmarian court. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the downy brow and whispered fiercely, "I promise, I'll watch over you, and protect you. I can never replace your mother, but at the very least I can promise that I won't let you grow up fatherless as well. You've become my reason to live."

Outside the bells tolled the late hour and the king tucked the sleeping baby into his carved wooden cradle and prepared for bed himself. Young Lieutenant Glozelle was standing guard in the anti-chamber and knew to come if he was called. Letting his exhaustion claim him, he fell asleep.

It was a small sound that woke him, like a leather boot scuffing the stone floor. He had managed to turn over and reach for the dagger on his bedside table before the thick pillow slammed down on his face. His fingers scrambled for the blade as he bucked, trying to struggle free. Blind and panic-stricken his hand managed to hit the scabbard, but slipped and it fell to the floor with a clatter. Desperately, he clawed his nails into the hands holding the pillow and kicked with all his might to try to free himself from the bed sheets. A violent heave almost dislodged the pillow and it slipped enough for Caspian to see the assassin.

_Miraz!?_ Shock struck him harder than any blow and Miraz took advantage of his sudden stillness to lean harder on the pillow and use his full weight to press down. The face above Caspian was his brother's, but utterly unfamiliar. Gone was the brother who he had played with, laughed with, gone hunting with. In its place was a stranger: ambitious, bloodthirsty, cold and murderous.

The sound of the struggle had woken the baby and Caspian could hear his son's frightened screams over the ringing in his ears. Black spots crept into his vision as his frantic struggles grew weaker. He thought of his son, and prayed that his foolish underestimating would not condemn his child as well. As everything went black he sent a desperate, hopeless prayer to whatever God looked after the innocent, _Protect my child! I will not be able to keep my promise after all..._ Then everything faded except for the Roaring in his head.


End file.
